I was afraid of being talked about. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. Then he lifted the black cloak-like garment from the floor. "Go to your own room, woman, directly, or I'll make you!" "Make me!" echoed Mrs. What could she do? Reluctantly, at a second curt command, she began to step across the uncarpeted floor, her eyes never leaving the threatening pistol. The entire place was a masterpiece of wooden carving, a design of interleaving carried throughout. A girl—at my age—is grown-up.
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